


Pre-dinner Entertainment

by Cenea



Category: Take That
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenea/pseuds/Cenea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Answer to a request for a fic about Howard and nipple clamps. Basically domestic, kinky PWP! </p><p>Written 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pre-dinner Entertainment

Howard lightly runs a finger over the arm of the sofa. It’s a black and white pattern - not quite floral. More like paisley, with an odd leaf-like motif. The fabric is bathed in dappled, reflected light from the disco ball on the ceiling.

A sparkly disco ball and chintz interior. Howard takes a swig of his beer then laughs softly. This can only be Mark’s territory.

‘Everything comfy, mate?’

Mark’s standing at the door from the kitchen, untying the strings of his apron. Whatever he’s just put in the oven, it needs no more attention for a little while. There’s a contented smile curving on his lips as he comes over, folding the apron and hanging it over the back of a chair.

‘I’m good,’ replies Howard with a wolfish grin. Mark starts rummaging in a little cardboard boutique bag, left by the sofa.

Howard wonders if he’s about to be asked to make some effort. Is he going to have to hold Mark down so he can’t move, to kiss him until he begs for mercy, to fuck him till he cringes and squirms?

That sort of thing happens when they’re alone together. Or sometimes, things are different. Howard can sense Mark's moods and predict him to an extent, but he never quite knows what's going to happen.

Mark’s found what he wants from the bag and he’s concealing it in his palm. ‘You sure you don’t want another beer?’ he asks.

‘No thanks.’

Mark seems so pleased with himself, he’s almost purring. He opens his hand and spills from it a few inches of slender, silver chain. Howard frowns. The chain’s not much thicker than a necklace, and not going to be much good for binding either of them. One wriggle, and it would snap.

‘You’re gonna adore this,’ says Mark. ‘I saw it and instantly thought of you.’

But he doesn't give it to Howard. He slips the chain into the pocket of his tailored trousers and falls to his knees at Howard’s feet.

Howard parts his legs, letting Mark nudge between them. Whatever happens next, this is always a nice position to be in. Mark Owen between his thighs. But he’s not surprised when Mark doesn’t go straight for his flies. If Howard was going to get a blow-job, he’d usually be asked to work for it somehow: to grab Mark’s hair and treat him roughly, or kiss him hard against a wall. But that’s not been demanded. So he waits, relaxed, and only slightly confused.

Mark touches Howard’s chest. He works his hands under his t-shirt, feather-light fingertips teasing over Howard's abs.

‘God, you're fucking vain,’ laughs Mark. 'The hours you spend sculpting these things. Shirt off. Show me the money shot.' Howard lifts his arms, and Mark peels the t-shirt off over his head.

When he sees Howard’s bare chest, light leaps in Mark's eyes. He moves quicker now, hungrily. He rakes his fingers through crisp hair and traces the fine definition of Howard’s pecs; and then his hands slip to Howard’s shoulders, and he continues the work with his tongue.

Howard groans, and opens his legs further to draw Mark even closer. Mark laps his chest in little circles, his tongue catching and tugging on the hairs. 

‘Love it, mate,’ sighs Howard.

Howard’s erection jams into Mark’s soft tummy. He’s enjoying the friction Mark creates against his groin as he moves, yet he realizes that’s not yet Mark's target. Mark's tongue finds the hard tip of one of his nipples and flicks it. Once - already Howard flinches - twice, and then three times. Mark edges away and grins. A deeper red now, Howard's nipple shines. Mark pulls the little chain from his pocket, dangling from his clenched fist. On each end is a delicate tweezer-like claw.

And Howard understands everthing.  He grins.

‘It’s going to look beautiful,’ says Mark. But first, he has to prepare the other nipple. He uses his tongue to make it moist and tender. Then he slides his lips away and carefully squeezes apart the latex-covered claw of the nipple-clamp.

He places it on Howard's left nipple. Howard hisses at the pinch, but it’s not quite painful. It’s a bit like an intense itch but more...carnal, somehow. Sensual.

Mark doesn’t look him in the eye. He’s enthralled by the clamp. ‘So pretty,’ he breathes. ‘So, so pretty.’

He traces circles with his finger again, round and round the clamp; then, with the tip of his tongue, he finds the bud of squeezed flesh. Howard grunts at the contact with his tortured nipple. Mark’s blue eyes flicker onto his, deadly serious.

_You can touch me now._

Finally, Howard's been told. And he obeys, stroking down Mark's back and over the silky fabric of his shirt, like Mark's a pet.

Then he touches Mark’s lighty-stubbled cheek. Mark shoots him a glimmer of a smile, then returns to his work.

Mark frowns slightly, sucking on his bottom lip. Howard knows what to expect this time, and as the second clamp is applied, a sensation sweeps through him that's akin to an electric shock. He tips his chin back and moans; his eyes are shut when Mark’s lips brush gently against his.

But Mark doesn't  linger on his mouth. Howard tenses, expecting him to continue his sweet torment of his nipple buds with his lips...but no. Not that, either.

When he opens his eyes, Mark has used his lips to pick up the slender silver chain that now dangles between his nipples, so delicately that Howard didn’t even sense it.

‘Fuck, yeah,’ husks Howard. He sinks back into the chair, and he starts to feel the pull.

As he slowly draws the chain down toward Howard’s navel, Mark’s expression is as enigmatically blank as a beautiful statue. The chain goes taut, and the tug becomes harder to bear. Mark’s eyes glimmer mischievously. The silver glistens wetly as Mark draws his chin up. As he pulls his nipples toward their limit, Howard’s flesh take the strain.

But Howard only sighs when Mark lessens the pressure. He craves the intensity.

‘Please,’ he growls, when Mark drops the chain.

Mark grins and waggles a finger. ‘Not over yet. Dinner’s at least another seven minutes and I’m going to...’ He breaks off, sliding his tongue to his cheek. ‘Actually, that would be telling.’

Mark discards the rest of his clothes, and he’s soon naked and straddling Howard’s lap. His cock is dark pink and erect, its tip distinctly moist. It’s jutting in the direction of the little silver chain, which he carefully takes between his lips again, staring intently into Howard’s eyes. He seems to study every facet of Howard’s expression, every twitch of his lips and every narrowing of his eyes. Finally, without averting his gaze, he frees Howard’s shaft from under the tented fabric of his now far-too-tight fitting jeans. 

Every movement causes a delicate little jerk on the chain, sending streams of molten pleasure straight to Howard’s erection. When Mark slicks his cock with lube, rolling it expertly and slightly roughly between his palms, Howard lets out a guttural groan.

Mark sniggers softly, dirtily; he nearly drops the chain between his lips.

When he clambers up to raise himself above Howard’s cock, Mark asks a question with the quirk of an eyebrow. Howard obeys again, locking a sturdy hand around Mark’s hip; he’s craving this so badly, he’ll do anything to hasten it on, although he doesn't want to rush things either. The tug from the chain between Mark’s teeth becomes exquisitely painful; it brings a dampness to his eyes. At the same time, his cock slides between Mark’s buttocks, and it’s almost too much, too soon.

Mark sinks onto Howard’s shaft; his teeth clamp hard onto the chain, and his irises roll back into his head. He lightly closes his eyes, but still he doesn’t drop the silver thread that binds him to Howard’s tortured nipples. At Howard’s desperate moan, he starts to move.

They both know it won’t be long, not once Mark's impaled to the hilt on Howard’s cock. He’s jerking at the chain every time he jolts himself up and down, sending burning sensations through Howard’s nipples. Howard supports him, and Mark leans back and goes in for the kill. He twists gently side to side, intensifying both the friction on Howard’s shaft, and the pull on the chain. Then, opening his eyes, Mark grasps his own cock too. 

It takes little longer. Howard comes, deep inside of Mark, the most intense pained-pleasure zinging from his cock to his nipples and then engulfing every sinew of his body. Mark comes seconds later, as Howard moans in his throes of ecstasy. Then Mark drops the chain and collapses forward, panting, onto Howard’s chest.

Howard wraps an arm around Mark, and wants to lie like that forever. But the buzzer on the oven goes off. 'Dinner is ready,' murmurs Mark. 'That means I've got get 'em off you, or they'll have been on too long. Such a shame.'

He kisses each of Howard’s pecs and then, very slowly and very gently, he begins to ease the pincers off.

After the overwhelming sensation of his orgasm, Howard’s nipples feel slightly numb – until they're freed.

He groans in pain; Mark winces. 

‘Ssshhhh, sorry,’ soothes Mark. ‘But you have to pay for looking so pretty.’

Howard mumbles, ‘You should know, mate,’ grits his teeth and pays. It hurts like hell.

Mark rubs Howard's reddened nipples with some sweet-smelling cream. ‘That was nice,’ he smiles, then puts his apron on, and goes back into the kitchen to serve up the dinner.

And Howard does up his flies, alternately rubs his sore nipples and sips a beer, and wonders what they can get up to _after_ the meal.


End file.
